


A Very Dark Discussion

by My_Alter_Ego



Series: White Collar Discussions [15]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Ambivalence, Forced Captivity, Gen, Terrorist Assault, an Unexpected Admission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21885229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Alter_Ego/pseuds/My_Alter_Ego
Summary: When a terrorist attack unfolds on the floors of the FBI building in Manhattan, Neal finds himself trapped and hunkered down with Reese Hughes. Of course, that scenario portends a lot of drama, some which may surprise you. Enjoy the read!
Relationships: Neal Caffrey & Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey & Reese Hughes
Series: White Collar Discussions [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1472945
Comments: 10
Kudos: 72





	A Very Dark Discussion

It was a normal Tuesday morning, just like so many other days that Reese Hughes had slogged through over his very long career at the FBI. The old man didn’t resent putting in his time, even at this late date in his lifespan. Actually, being the Special Agent in Charge of the White Collar Unit was probably what kept him going. It afforded him a purpose and kept his brain cells firing to stave off any encroaching senility. When the day would finally come that he met his Maker, it would be with a clear conscience. “Yes, Lord, I hung in there being productive until the very end. No slacking off for me!”

The elevator arrived on the ground floor with a ding, and Hughes stepped into the car. As he turned to face forward, Neal Caffrey slid in just as the doors were closing. Both men were the only occupants in the small space, and Hughes smirked inwardly when Caffrey suddenly looked like a deer caught in the headlights. The SAC and the CI had what one might call a less than cordial relationship. Actually, a more apt descriptive word would be adversarial, especially after Caffrey’s little sojourn to Cape Verde. That antagonistic state of affairs which played out in the White Collar office kept Hughes happy and it made Caffrey twitchy.

“Sir,” the young paroled criminal murmured blandly.

“Caffrey,” Hughes returned the acknowledgement with a glower.

Neal squared his shoulders and quickly turned to face front. Hughes casually leaned against the back wall and watched the individual numbers on the elevator’s control panel wink on and off as the car made its slow ascent to the floors above. They were at the 10th level in the high-rise building, halfway to their 21st floor destination, when an ear-splitting klaxon began an incessant wailing and the elevator car jerked to an abrupt halt before being plunged into complete darkness. Hughes felt his head and shoulders slam against the metal wall behind him, and he actually lost his footing and tumbled forward, only just throwing his hands out in front of him in time to protect himself from further injury as he fell.

“What the hell?” he heard a puzzled swearing to his right and knew that Neal Caffrey was likewise on the floor just an arm’s length off to his side.

“You okay, Caffrey?” Hughes found himself yelling over the obnoxious din of the alarm.

“Yeah, I think so. How about you?” came the immediate concerned reply.

“Still in one piece,” Hughes assured him.

Hughes heard Caffrey shifting in the darkness, and suddenly the light from the CI’s phone threw the two men into sharp focus. Neal seemed to have moved closer and was looking concerned when he couldn’t get a cell signal. “What do you think just happened, Sir?” he asked in a perplexed tone. “That’s a really impressive alarm for a stuck elevator.”

Unfortunately, Reese Hughes knew exactly what that uniquely “impressive” alarm meant. It was part of a protocol that he had personally engineered and put into play after working in tandem with other government agencies across the spectrum. Succinctly put, there were to be precise steps immediately implemented if a possible terrorist event began unfolding. First the alarm, and then the loss of power would occur, followed by the jamming of all cell service so the invaders couldn’t communicate with each other during the course of carrying out their plot. Federal agents on each floor in the building all had access to old fashioned walkie-talkies to pass along vital information to each other. Sometimes old tried and true, uncomplicated methods worked best in an emergency.

The SAC wondered if he should share his insider knowledge with a young civilian con artist. How would the man, who Hughes regarded as little more than a snot-nosed, immature kid, react? Then the savvy old man thought back over everything he had read and filed away about Neal Caffrey. Apparently, the clever former criminal never seemed to panic in dicey situations. He kept a cool head and hung in for the duration, managing to pull off escape after escape against all odds. Well, the odds this Tuesday morning were not going to be in his favor or Hughes’. Both men were at a disadvantage because their home base was currently under siege from the ultimate threat. The loud alarm was a signal indicating that the FBI had been attacked by an unknown person or persons, and a building-wide lockdown had been instituted. When the far-off muffled resonance of automatic gunfire and explosive percussions echoed through the dark elevator shaft and overrode the siren, Hughes knew the walls of the citadel had already been breached and the foxes were now in the hen house.

Caffrey heard it, too, and stated the obvious in a calm voice, “We’re currently being invaded by some enemy, aren’t we?”

“It would seem so,” Hughes was noncommittal.

Suddenly, the shrieking siren abruptly quieted, but the thick darkness still remained, only a bit less intense thanks to Neal’s phone. The silence should have been comforting, but, instead, it only increased the stress level because the sounds of incessant gunfire were now louder and more distinct.

“It sounds like the shootout at the OK Corral out there,” Neal quipped. “Who do you think is mixing it up with Wyatt Earp?”

“Now that’s the question, isn’t it?” Hughes replied.

“C’mon, Sir, be a little more forthcoming,” Neal wheedled. “You must have some kind of educated guess who may be storming the gates of your personal fortress.”

“This Federal Plaza Building is not my very own domain, Caffrey. It houses other branches of the Bureau as well,” Hughes equivocated.

“But it’s all FBI, different departments but all falling under the auspices of the DOJ,” Neal refused to be rebuffed. “So, when someone takes a fight to the DOJ, then they’re bringing the party to the whole United States government.”

“I suppose your logic is moving you toward some kind of conclusion,” Hughes sighed dramatically.

“I believe I may have arrived at several deductive assumptions,” Neal agreed softly.

“And now I presume you’re feeling the annoying urge to share those thoughts,” Hughes wheezed out an audible snort.

“Well, it would fill up the big void in here, and it’s not as if we have anything else in common to discuss at the moment,” Neal insisted.

“Do what you think you need to do, but don’t expect me to respond,” Hughes groused. “And turn off your phone’s flashlight to conserve the battery. Cell service may be restored at some point and we’ll need to let someone know where we are.”

“Got it,” Neal replied flippantly as the complete darkness returned. “Now for my theories,” he began in earnest. “From the intensity of what appears to be a massive assault in progress, I’m guessing it’s not just a single individual pissed off at his mail carrier and going postal. I think it may be a group of individuals who, perhaps through a coordinated effort, made it past security at the front door by their sheer numbers before beginning their murderous mayhem. Maybe that bizarre-sounding alarm was put into place for just such an eventuality. How am I doing so far?” Neal asked the dead air.

“By all means, keep postulating because, obviously, I can’t stop you,” Hughes finally replied.

So, Neal was very accommodating. “Well, now I’m beginning to wonder if shutting down the power to the building was their doing, or was that part of the FBI’s grand plan to isolate the terrorists and contain them?”

“Are you perhaps drawing this off-the-wall conclusion based on a similar experience in Sing Sing?” Hughes’ tone was disparaging.

“Partly,” Neal conceded, “but in attempted jail breaks, the plan is to keep people in, not keep them out. However, in this instance, I think it’s a little too late for that. Jump in at any time to add your knowledgeable opinion, Sir.”

“In case you’d like to know, Caffrey, right now I’m shrugging,” Hughes grunted.

“Well, just so _you_ know, I’m feeling pretty vulnerable sitting here on the floor in the dark,” Neal responded. “Being stuffed in a little metal box sucks, not that I’m referencing the quality of present company. I guess what I mean is sorta like this. If the power suddenly goes back on and the invaders are in control, we’re like fish in a barrel, and you know the rest of that quote. We wouldn’t have a fighting chance in hell.”

“Now that’s a comforting thought, Caffrey,” Hughes said sarcastically.

But Neal wasn’t done. “And if the elevator does somehow miraculously start up again and there’s a glitch in the mechanism due to some kind of external damage to the controls from the assault, we’re going to be plummeting to our deaths.”

“Then it will be over quick,” Hughes replied cynically, but Neal still wasn’t finished.

“Of course, if the building is set afire, we would asphyxiate from all the smoke that would be pulled into an updraft by the elevator shafts.”

“Caffrey, you’re just a ray of sunshine!” Hughes mocked.

“Don’t worry, Sir, I’m not freaking out,” Neal sought to reassure his new cellmate. “I’m a realist, so I’m just laying out the possibilities of the situation, and concluding that things don’t look very rosy right now. I don’t know about you, Agent Hughes, but I’m really not ready to die quite yet,” Neal declared adamantly.

“Sometimes, boy, our fate is not always within our control,” Hughes told his annoyingly talkative companion.

Neal was finally quiet for a while until he eventually asked a very somber question. “Do you think this is the only site in New York, or even in the country, where this hostile action is currently in progress, Agent Hughes?”

The old veteran could hear what hadn’t been said, and he felt a temporary twinge of empathy for his fellow captive. “You’re thinking about what happened on 9-11, aren’t you—the Towers, the Pentagon, and that downed plane in Pennsylvania that was supposed to hit the White House.”

Now it was Neal who didn’t answer, so Hughes unexpectedly shared his own commentary as he recalled that horrible day. “When that first plane hit, I was sitting right in my office in White Collar. At first, it had seemed like an unbelievable tragedy that a commercial jetliner had inadvertently crashed into a skyscraper in Lower Manhattan. But when the second kamikaze plane intentionally plowed into the second tower, it was mind-numbing. Not many New Yorkers were probably still around that day who remembered hearing the news about Pearl Harbor on their radios back in 1941, but parallels were drawn. An enemy had once again brought their murderous carnage to our shores, and that was something quite hard to wrap your head around.”

“I was just a kid on 9-11,” Neal finally responded softly. “I wasn’t even in New York at the time because I was living … well, I was living in another state back then. I remember being glued to the television set watching those horrendous images over and over and thinking the world was going to come to an end. I was scared out of my mind, especially when a newscaster on the scene explained the thumping sounds going on around her were the result of human bodies hitting the ground. There were people trapped above the point of impact who couldn’t get past the raging inferno to safety. Rather than burn to death, they made a decision to jump. It made me wonder if I would ever be driven to that degree of desperation.”

“I suppose you never know what you’re capable of until you’re faced with the inevitable,” Hughes remarked. “We’re all going to die one day, and we never know when it’s going to happen. I’m emotionally ready to leave this earth whenever that occurs, and I can only hope that I will be able to face my final day with integrity and dignity.”

“It doesn’t bother you that you’ll be leaving behind people that you love and who will miss you?” Neal asked.

Reese Hughes wondered just how much personal information he should share with Neal Caffrey. Uncharacteristically, he finally decided to let a little of himself venture into the non-existent light in this claustrophobic confessional. “There really isn’t anybody who will miss me, Caffrey—not anymore,” he admitted. “My only child, a son, was killed in the Middle East during Desert Storm. He hadn’t married yet, or had any children. And my wife passed away two years ago from cancer. I’ve outlived all my brothers and sisters, so I’m like an island in a vast ocean with no connection to any continent.”

“I’m really sorry, Sir,” Neal mumbled.

“Don’t be,” Hughes snapped. “It is what it is and you soldier on.”

Neal could almost feel the icy shell start to re-form around his nemesis. “Well, I’m worried about Peter,” the young man insisted. “He’s up there on the 21st floor, maybe under attack along with the whole team.”

“Burke is one of the best, so he can take care of himself,” Hughes said confidently.

“Yeah, I know ….” Neal trailed off uncertainly.

“You and Peter Burke,” Reese Hughes mused, “I’ve always been mystified about exactly how that weird bond developed? You started out as his criminal obsession and he put you away for almost four years, but then suddenly the two of you are voluntarily joined at the hip. I find that very strange.”

“Well, yeah, I guess it is kind of hard to understand,” Neal admitted. “Maybe it just snuck up on both of us—the respect and the friendship, I mean. We certainly didn’t plan it. It just …. happened. Maybe it came out of my own personal tragedy when someone I loved perished in another plane disaster. Peter got me through it.”

Now Hughes was the one surprised by Caffrey’s display of unambiguous open honesty. “I would like to think that tragedy brings out the best in human beings, and sometimes that’s the case,” the old man said slowly. “There were so many heroes that fatal day in September of 2001. One firehouse in Lower Manhattan can attest to that. The first responders’ funerals continued for days, along with a lot of burials of New York’s finest men in blue. However, tragedy also brings the cockroaches out of the woodwork—the disgusting criminal element who see an opportunity to further their agendas.”

“I know exactly how you see me, Agent Hughes,” Neal said softly. “You’ve made your opinion abundantly clear, and I respect that you have grave reservations about _my_ motives and _my_ integrity.”

“I’m going to be candid with you, Caffrey,” Hughes answered. “I had my attention centered on Peter Burke since the first day he set foot in White Collar. I saw so much potential, so I mentored him along with an eye to the future. I expected that he would one day take my place. When Peter came to me with that CI/anklet proposal, I worried that you would somehow derail his career. And, in fact, you almost did on several occasions.”

“I know,” Neal agreed quietly.

“But,” Hughes surprised Neal by continuing as if the younger man hadn’t spoke, “the Bureau hasn’t exactly treated you fairly either. Compromised agents have framed you, and political bureaucrats have reneged on promises they’ve made. Trust is supposed to go both ways, but, unfortunately, that was not always the case. However, I want to make it crystal clear that I was never personally involved in throwing you to the wolves.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Neal muttered.

“I’m a straight-shooter, Caffrey, so that’s the truth,” Hughes insisted. “I’m never duplicitous, so you always know exactly where you stand with me.”

“Yeah, I can certainly attest to that,” Neal said laconically.

The silence once again lengthened with neither man willing to break it as the passing minutes turned into long boring hours. Finally, Neal couldn’t stand it anymore. “It seems like it’s been forever since everything got quiet,” he said softly. “We haven’t been slaughtered like sitting ducks, but we haven’t been rescued either. What do you think is going on out there?”

“ _If_ it really is under control, there is a process taking place,” Hughes enlightened him. “Specially trained government squads are using the stairs to go from floor to floor to clear them. There is always the possibility that a terrorist mole working in this facility may have clandestinely planted incendiary devices at some point, so hidden bombs are a very big concern. The Bureau has definite procedures in place that are probably in progress as we speak.”

“Floor by floor,” Neal echoed dolefully, “There are a _lot_ of floors in this building.”

“Now you’re getting the picture,” Hughes growled. “Patience, young man. Life is not all about instant gratification.”

Perhaps yet another hour of silence ensued. Surprisingly, this time it was Hughes who wanted a bit of enlightenment. “Caffrey, do you really intend to stick it out and still hope for your freedom, even after everything that’s happened to you?”

The captive con man sighed and tried to carefully frame his answer. “Freedom for me has become like a mirage, Agent Hughes. I see it beckoning way off in the distance, and I keep putting one foot in front of the other to get there. But just when I think I’ve made it, I discover it was all an illusion and has evaporated. So, I guess what you’re really asking is—will I eventually make it real on my own terms?”

“In a nutshell, yes,” Hughes said bluntly.

“Maybe I shouldn’t answer that,” Neal said after a pause.

“No, maybe you shouldn’t,” Hughes agreed, “and maybe I shouldn’t say that I wouldn’t blame you, Neal, if you did one day take matters into your own hands.”

If there had been illumination in the elevator car, Hughes would have seen the astounded look on the CI’s face. Instead, he only heard the soft words. “Sir, sometimes you surprise me.”

“Well, I try to keep everybody on their toes by being unpredictable,” the old man muttered just as the lights suddenly blazed on in the elevator car. The green light on Neal’s anklet was again visible, and, within seconds, both men’s cell phones were ringing.

“Neal!” Peter anxiously yelled in his partner’s ear. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Neal reassured his handler. “Are you okay, too?”

“Yep, everyone here in the White Collar office is safe. Only you and Hughes are AWOL, and it wasn’t until your tracker came back on that I figured out where you were.”

“Yeah, it’s been a real picnic being crammed in an elevator with Hughes,” Neal whispered.

“My God,” Peter actually moaned, “Hughes is stuck in there with you? How did that catastrophic event go? Since you’re talking to me, I take it he didn’t strangle you while the two of you were cooped up all those hours.”

“Actually, Reese and I got to know each other a bit,” Neal said nonchalantly. “Things are pretty chill right now. One could even use the word copacetic.”

“Oh, Buddy, we definitely need to talk!” Peter deadpanned.


End file.
